


Netflix and no chill

by haleofStilesheart



Series: Destiel Emoji Prompts [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Because of Reasons, Blushing Castiel, Blushing Dean, Castiel and Netflix, Castiel in the Bunker, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Post-Season/Series 11, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Virgin Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 01:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11772750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haleofStilesheart/pseuds/haleofStilesheart
Summary: Dean was cool, okay? The coolest.Definitely not the type to blush whenever his boyfriend does anything remotely affectionate. Except that he is. He really, really is.





	Netflix and no chill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deanissmitten](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=deanissmitten).



> This is officially the first Destiel fic I've finished! I changed some canon events, mostly because they made me really uncomfortable. The ending might be a little rushed, my apologies there. Anyway, I hope you like it!
> 
> For the emoji prompt: 

Dean was cool, okay? The coolest, in fact.

He drove the coolest car in the world. His baby was sleek and sexy and powerful, buttery soft leather bench seats perfect for long drives or sleeping on when no local hotels had any vacancies. And of course, the backseat was perfect for a different kind of late night activity.

He listened to the coolest music, the Holy Grail that was classic rock. He didn't care what Claire said, Led Zeppelin and Bob Seger would forever be cooler than what kids these days tried to pass off as music. Guitars and soul-filled lyrics would always beat out techno music and whatever the hell dubstep is.

He had one of the coolest, and most ridiculously dangerous, jobs on the face of the earth, hunting supernatural creatures only rivaled by pornstar as far as awesome jobs went. If his life hadn't gotten so fucked up when he was so young, he totally would have been a pornstar. Why? Because he's cool.

He lived in the coolest place in Kansas, if not the entire United States itself, in a freaking super secret underground bunker. That said it all really especially since the Bunker was indeed super secret.

He was damn good-looking if he did say so himself, what with his all-American, Midwestern good looks and gorgeous smile that could charm the pants off of virtually anyone. According to the laws of the universe, and high school for that matter, his physical attractiveness definitely made him cool.

He had survived forty years worth of torture in Hell and come back with a neat handprint on his arm as a souvenir. He had done a stint in Purgatory and come out smelling like a rose. He had fought demons and angels and Knights of Hell and pagan gods and the Darkness and lived to tell the tale. Only someone insanely cool could do that.

And to top it all off, like a scoop of vanilla ice cream on a nice piece of apple pie, he was dating a certified, wing-possessing, angel blade carrying angel of the freaking Lord, whom he had met. It didn't get much cooler than that.

So, the point is that Dean was cool. The coolest. Cool and aloof and brooding. Like a Batman type.

Definitely not the type that turned into a pathetic, blushing, bumbling nerd over his aforementioned dorky little angel boyfriend. Nope, not all. Except that he was. He totally, totally was.

He and Cas had been dating for months — four months, two weeks, and three days to be exact, not that Dean was counting or marking it off on his calendar because that would be super uncool — and he still found himself blushing like an idiot over the most innocent things.

Innocent things like whenever Cas leaned over while they were cooking dinner together to press a soft, chaste kiss to his cheek. Or when he would reach over to tangle his and Dean's fingers together for no reason other than he wanted to hold hands.

Or when Cas would snuggle with him in the front seat of the Impala on days when Sam generously relinquished shotgun, laying his head on Dean's shoulder as they drove home after a hunt. Or when Cas would just stare at him, from across the kitchen table in the Bunker or a wobbly table at a hole in the wall diner, like Dean was the most precious, incredible thing he had ever seen.

Or when Cas would wander into the kitchen in the morning, grumpy from a lack of caffeine with his hair sticking up in all directions, and wrap his arms around Dean's waist from behind, pressing his cheek against Dean's back and complaining about how early it was. Or when Cas would encourage Dean to lay down on the couch with his head in the angel's lap, it always leading to them watching Netflix while Cas ran his fingers through Dean's hair.

Basically whenever Cas did anything remotely affection. Which was pretty often, Dean's embarrassing little habit an almost daily occurrence much to the amusement of Sam.

He thought the whole thing was freaking hilarious. Cas making Dean blush never failed to make Sam erupt into a fit of laughter, almost hysterical as he pointed at Dean's flushed face, making incoherent jokes about Dean resembling a tomato.

He was also rather fond of snapping pictures on his phone. Pictures that he usually sent to Charlie, Claire, Garth, Jody, and now Eileen whom he had been Skyping with regularly.

The first time Sam had taken a picture of Dean's blushing face, Cas and Dean had been curled up on the couch, watching some action movie they had found on Netflix. In the middle of some ridiculous action sequence with a gratuitous amount of obviously fake blood and slow motion, Cas had tipped his head to the side to lay a quick kiss on Dean's jaw.

Sam who had been sitting in a nearby armchair, tapping away on his laptop, had seized the opportunity and taken a quick picture of Dean's bright pink cheeks. When Dean had realized what Sam had done, he had hopped off the couch and launched himself at his younger brother who fled down the hall, his laughter echoing through the Bunker.

Dean still owed Sam a good kick in the ass for all of the pictures he had taken of him blushing. Mostly because it was so freaking embarrassing.

He was almost forty, as both loathe and proud as he was to admit it, he shouldn't be blushing like some ten year old girl every time his boyfriend kissed him. Especially since Cas never blushed.  _ Never _ .

Dean had tried getting his angel to blush by giving him a taste of his own medicine but it never worked.

He had tried sneaking up behind Cas and twirling him around to peck him on the cheek but it hadn't worked. Cas had just huffed a laugh and smiled up at him, big and bright and breathtaking, greeting Dean with his signature, "Hello, Dean."

He had tried doing sappy, romantic things like spontaneously pulling Cas into an impromptu dance when they were supposed to be doing the dishes. After swaying around with Cas in his arms, their fingers intertwined as they danced, Dean had even dipped Cas, kissing the tip of his nose. But still no dice.

He had even tried performing over the top romantic gestures like bringing Cas breakfast in bed along with a bouquet of roses, lilies, and daisies that he had picked in the fields around the Bunker. Cas had been delighted, tugging Dean into an overjoyed kiss, but he hadn't blushed.

Dean had tried everything he could think of. He even asked Charlie for advice, then Sam when Charlie's plan fell through.

But Cas never blushed, no matter what Dean did. It would have been infuriating if Dean didn't love Cas so much.

And he did. So much so that it was almost embarrassing in itself, almost enough to make Dean blush without any action on Cas' part.

Even though none of his past attempts at making Cas had failed miserably, Dean was far from giving up. He was no quitter, damn it. He  _ would  _ make Cas blush, he just needed a new plan.

A burst pipe in the wall that flooded Cas' room provided the perfect opportunity. And yes, he realized that taking advantage of his boyfriend's misfortune was definitely a dick move, but he was a man on a mission.

Cas had stomped into the kitchen hours earlier than he usually did, typically dead to the world until late morning. He was in a pair of sopping wet sweatpants, a downright murderous expression on his face as he reported that a pipe had burst.

Luckily, his room stopped flooding after a while but his mattress was completely unsalvageable, the pipe bursting just above it and thoroughly soaking the bed and in the process, Cas. Soaking wet, his hair plastered to his forehead, he had looked like a grumpy cat that someone had tossed in the bathtub.

Dean hadn't been able to hold back his laughter, doubling over as Cas pouted about his ruined mattress. That had earned him a rather pissed off glare from Cas who had crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his foot impatiently in the puddle of water pooling on the floor around him.

Fortunately, Dean redeemed himself by offering to run Cas a hot shower and grab him some clothes, Cas' face lighting up at the thought. As Cas warmed back up in the hot shower, Dean braved the flood in his room to grab the angel a change of clothes, picking out a plain t-shirt, a comfy looking flannel that used to belong to Sam, and a pair of jeans they had picked up for him at the nearest Walmart.

His consideration earned him a grateful kiss on the couch when Cas emerged from the bathroom in the clothes Dean had picked out for him, looking much happier than earlier. As he finished mopping up the puddle in the kitchen, Sam told Cas that he could stay in one of the other guest rooms until they got his room fixed up which would be a few days thanks to the thunderstorm raging outside.

But Dean had vetoed that idea immediately. Instead, he invited Cas to stay with him for the time being, curling his arm around his boyfriend's shoulders as he made the offer.

Cas had squinted at him as he asked if Dean was sure, his head cocked to the side like a curious puppy. Dean had assured him that he was sure, leaning over to kiss Cas on the forehead, ruffling his damp hair until it stuck up in all different directions.

The day had passed without any further incident, most of their time spent looking for cases online to no avail. Things had definitely tapered off after the Darkness had been placated and God had reopened Heaven to the angels, returning their home and their wings.

They had Skyped with Claire for a bit, all three of them awkwardly cramming into frame as they talked about the last few weeks. Claire told them about what classes she had picked for her next semester and complained about midterms, tacking on that she and Alex were getting along much better now.

After talking to Jody for a while, the sheriff teasing Dean about what a cute couple he and Cas made until he ended up flushing pink, they decided to call it a day. Over a cozy dinner of homemade chili, they watched the season premiere of Game of Thrones, squished together on the couch with Cas' head on Dean's shoulder.

Still hungry, Dean had rustled up some ice cream from the freezer, a decadent rocky road that called to him like a siren. Forgoing bowls, he simply grabbed three spoons and carried the carton back to the couch where they all helped themselves to the dessert.

And yes, Dean may have blushed when Cas took his first taste and let out a delighted, breathy little sigh that Dean was definitely going to think about later when he was alone. But it wasn't his fault, Cas was just that good at making him blush.

Some time after they had finished off the ice cream, Dean decided to retire for the evening, standing up and stretching as he announced how tired he was. He had leaned down to peck Cas on the cheek, telling him to come to his room whenever he was ready, before padding down the hall to the bathroom to take a shower.

Then, he waited for Cas.

Sprawled out on his back on his bed, he stretched out his legs, wiggling his toes and shifting around to get more comfortable. After his shower he had thrown on a black t-shirt and some black boxer briefs and plopped down on his luxurious memory foam mattress, leaving room for Cas to slip into bed beside him, perfectly content with just drifting off to sleep.

But of course, now that he was freshly showered and dressed for bed, the last thing he wanted to do was actually go to sleep, suddenly feeling wide awake. Grumbling about how freaking typical that was, he shimmied around again, grabbing his TV remote to do some intense channel surfing.

He had just settled on a rerun of Family Feud with the original host when a tentative knock came at his bedroom door. A smile stretched across his face as he called, "Come in!"

The door opened a few inches to reveal an almost timid looking Cas, still in the clothes Dean had grabbed him earlier, a small smile on his face. Taking a few steps into Dean's room, he closed the door behind him and glanced around a bit, grinning at the pictures Dean had on his nightstand, proudly displayed in brand new frames.

Cas hesitated by the door for a little longer before announcing, "I assume I'll be sleeping on the couch."

He pointed at the green couch by the door as he said it, drawing Dean's attention to the sofa. Snapping his eyes back up to meet Cas' he argued, "What? No. Dude, you're sleeping in the bed with me."

"Oh," Cas murmured simply, his gaze shifting over to the spot on the bed Dean had left for him. A small smile lifted the corner of his lips when Dean patted the spot beside his hip, flashing Cas his most charming grin.

Why Cas thought he was going to be relegated to the couch all night was a mystery to him. He paused, smile freezing on his face, as something occurred to him. Sitting up, he amended "Uh, I mean, y'know... Unless you're more comfortable with that. I can take the couch if you want so you can have the bed."

Fortunately, Cas cut him off before he ended up rambling any more than he already had. With an amused little smile, he informed Dean, "I'd rather share the bed with you."

"Oh," Dean said intelligently. "Uh, good. So, you gonna get changed? Trust me, jeans ain't the most comfortable thing to sleep in."

Cas blinked and looked down at himself, as though he had completely forgotten about what he was wearing. Glancing back up at Dean, he admitted, "I don't have any other clothes with me—" he hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the door "—I can go grab some."

"Nah, don't bother," Dean countered. Waving his hand at his dresser, he suggested, "Just borrow some of mine, babe."

Cas sent him a grateful and walked over to the dresser, pulling out drawers and rifling around for something to wear. As Cas perused through Dean's wardrobe, Dean laid back down, punching his pillow a few times before settling back with a sigh.

As another family guessed what the survey said on screen, Dean's gaze strayed over to Cas as he shrugged out of the hand-me-down flannel and promptly tugged off his t-shirt. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of his shirtless boyfriend, running over the curve of Cas' shoulder and the way the muscles in his arms and chest flexed as he balled up his clothes and tossed them in Dean's laundry hamper.

He nearly swallowed his tongue, not that he would ever admit it, because Cas was seriously hot. Sure, he had always been attracted to Cas, always wondering what the dork looked like under his trench coat but this blew all of his expectations out of the water.

Cas may not have super defined abs or bulging biceps but he was all muscle, his arms sinewy and strong looking, his stomach flat with a small trail of hair beneath his navel. Cas' skin looked soft to the touch, unmarred by any human faults like scars, the tattoo he had once had above his hip gone thanks to the time God had healed him.

He bet Cas would feel amazing in his arms, skin against skin as they held each other all through the night. And yes, he realized that was right out of a chick flick but he didn't care, too busy ogling his boyfriend as he tugged off his jeans.

He was wearing a pair of starchy white boxers, so boring that it was almost hot in itself. His thighs were thick with muscle, his calves wiry like a runner's, overall the sexiest pair of legs Dean had ever seen.

Cas was unbelievably gorgeous. So, being the cool and classy gentleman that he was, Dean stuck two fingers in his mouth and wolf whistled.

Cas paused, Dean's nearly threadbare AC/DC t-shirt in his hands, and looked over at Dean, his brow furrowed in confusion. Tilting his head to the side, he narrowed his eyes a fraction and guilelessly inquired, "Why are you whistling?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "It's a wolf whistle, Cas."

"Wolves cannot whistle," Cas stated with a solemn shake of his head, still frowning. "I suppose a howl is similar enough but it certainly isn't an actual whistle."

"It's just called a wolf whistle, Cas," Dean explained with another roll of his eyes. Smirking, he further elaborated, "Means you look good. Real good, babe."

He followed up his comment with a smirk and a wink. Then, he watched in pure, unadulterated delight as Cas ducked his head, looking shy.

And what was that? Was that a blush on Cas' cheeks?

Dean squinted, focusing on Cas' face to confirm that the flush on the angel's face was indeed a blush. He wanted to pump his fist in the air and let out a whoop of triumphant but he managed to restrain himself, the gears in his mind turning.

So, was it compliments that made Cas blush? Or maybe it was something else, something less innocent.

He remembered the way Cas had fidgeted all those years ago when Dean had practically interrogated him about his virginity, how he had nervously rubbed the back of his neck and avoided meeting Dean's eyes. He thought about the terrified, embarrassed look on his face when they had been approached by the ironically dubbed Chastity at the brothel.

More recently, he had bumbled his way through an awkward explanation of why he had been half naked when that reaper bitch April had stabbed him with his own angel blade. Dean had been glad to note that they hadn't actually gotten down to having sex, Cas deserving a better first time than with some asshole manipulating him. He had also noted the way Cas had been extremely embarrassed by the whole ordeal though at the time Dean had simply thought the newly human Cas had just been embarrassed that he had been tricked.

Added to the fact that they had been together for months yet had not progressed past a few particularly heated kisses, at the behest of Cas who usually ended things before they could even get to second base, he had enough evidence to surmise that Cas was embarrassed by sex.

Cas pulled on Dean's AC/DC t-shirt, keeping his head down as he tugged it on over his head, ruffling his hair. He paused as he picked up a pair of Dean's sweatpants, glancing over at Dean's own lack of pants before dropping the sweats back into the drawer.

He shrugged and rounded the bed to climb in next to Dean, their arms brushing as he did. A contented sigh slipped out of his mouth as he sunk into the memory foam, laying his head on Dean's extra pillow.

Dean tilted his head to the side to look over at Cas, not satisfied with the fleeting blush he had finally wrought. Which gave him an idea that was pretty ingenious if he said so himself.

"Hey, you tired, babe?" He asked first. Cas didn't necessarily need to sleep but he often did, apparently rather fond of taking naps. If Dean had a dollar for every time he found Cas dozing in the library he'd be rich.

"Not especially, no," Cas replied, scooting a few inches closer in order to rest his head on Dean's shoulder. "Sam decided to go to bed and I saw no point in watching TV alone. Not when I could be with you."

Dean hesitated for a moment as his face filled with heat that Cas' comment caused. His boyfriend was such a romantic sap, especially when he wasn't even trying.

Regaining his composure, Dean grabbed the remote to his DVD player, pulling up Netflix. As he searched through the titles, he told Cas, "There's a movie I think you might like. Not real long. You up for it?"

Cas just nodded, Dean feeling the movement against his shoulder, Cas' stubble rasping against the sleeve of Dean's t-shirt. Smiling to himself, Dean queued up the movie and laid back to wait.

It was some artsy movie, something about a guy finding himself in Paris through the art and the music and the food. He had only watched it because the summary had advertised the wrong movie, a supernatural thriller that actually sounded pretty cool.

He knew that Cas would like it, would enjoy the music and the in depth monologues about the meaning of life and the inner conflict of humanity. But that wasn't why he had chosen the movie. No, it was because of the scene about half an hour in.

It was a sex scene, specifically a gay sex scene featuring miles of moonlit skin and a beautiful instrumental piece of music playing in the background. As far as sex scenes went, it was pretty good, passionate and engaging without being pornographic or gratuitous.

It was actually kind of beautiful, two men who had been dancing around each other for the whole movie finally resolving the tension between them. And, yes, it was really hot. Turning his head to the side a bit, he told Cas as much.

"This part always gets me going," he announced plainly as though he was discussing the weather not the fact that he had popped a boner once or twice while watching the scene. Before Cas could take his words too literally and ask where he was going, Dean tacked on, "Y'know, makes me horny. Turned on. Aroused."

"I'm aware of what horny means," Cas mumbled, his voice quiet as he rolled over onto his side, raising a hand to rest on Dean's chest. His voice sounded a little strange, a bit strained. When Dean took a peek at Cas' face, he saw that it was bright pink.

Upping the ante, Dean curled his arm around Cas', letting his fingers drift down over Cas' arm, teasing at the fine hair on his forearm. He smirked proudly to himself when Cas shivered in his arms, the angel blinking in surprise at his own actions.

Pulling back a few inches, Cas raised himself up on his elbow, biting his perpetually chapped bottom lip as he peered at Dean's face. Sounding both curious and somewhat accusatory, Cas ventured, "Dean...?"

"Yeah, babe?" Dean answered, trying to bite back the cocky smile he felt tugging at the corner of his lips at the sight of Cas' still flushed face. But staring into Cas' critical eyes made him break and he ended up smiling with a choked laugh.

"I  _ knew  _ it," Cas grumbled, his forehead creasing as he frowned, his insanely pink lips jutting out in an adorably grumpy pout. He poked Dean in the chest as he accused, "You're making fun of me."

"What? No. No, no, no," Dean rushed to assure him, sitting up and cupping Cas' face in his hands, brushing his thumbs over his cheeks. Feeling like a jackass, he apologized, "I'm sorry, Cas. I just wanted to make you blush."

"Why?" Cas asked slowly, narrowing his eyes in a way that told Dean he better think long and hard about his answer. He didn't. Instead, he just winged it.

"Because you're always making me blush and I finally found a way to get you to blush," Dean explained in one big, hurried breath. "I just wanted to see you blush, Cas. I'm sorry."

Cas hummed thoughtfully before settling back down, tugging Dean down with him. With a casual sigh, he said, "We could keep watching. I believe this scene is getting me going, as well."

It was Dean's turn to blush.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://hale-of-stiles-heart.tumblr.com/) though it's mostly a Sterek blog. Anyway, if you feel like it maybe send me a prompt or whatever!


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